Tug
by Kyla45
Summary: In the beginning, it had first originated as some act of annoyance, extreme embarrassment, and anger. Oneshot. Soubi & Ritsuka


There were many things that Soubi didn't like. There were many things that he thought nothing of, but there were also things that he could appreciate. And then just a few things that he truly loved.

Painting, he loved painting. He loved moving his hand, surely, and watching as a picture started to form. He loved mixing the colors, creating something new, he loved the sound the bristles made. He loved the feel of the brush in his fingertips, and the steady, calm pace at which he could work at.

Yes, he loved painting.

He was starting to think though, that there was something he was developing a stronger love for.

He supposed that if anyone could take just one guess at it, they'd immediately say 'oh, it's Ritsuka for sure!'

And he supposed that was partially right, just not quite. See, rather than the boy himself, it was something he _did_, and each time, it scalded him with some intense warmth, that just splattered all over his chest and left him incredibly happy.

In the beginning, it had first originated as some act of annoyance, extreme embarrassment, and anger. In response to Soubi's many small touches and kisses, the young boy would grumble harsh words, and grab handfuls of blond hair as he pulled meanly. So hard, in fact, that it hurt Soubi's scalp and yanked his head back.

This became a habit, and though it hurt, Soubi didn't mind the abuse all that much, because of the blushing face he got, and the clumsy, hot hands clawing so close to his head.

Over time, Ritsuka came to expect being ambushed by soft, soft, cursed lips. He came to expect being hugged around the waist, and being pulled tightly against a strong chest for long periods of time. And he always rebutted with the same insults and the same yanking of fine tresses.

In the beginning, his unwitting participation in such intimate acts, no matter how tiny, had infuriated him and embarrassed him to the point he sometimes pulled strands of hair from Soubi's head in his disorientation. But as time drew its slow path, his acts of violence became less violent.

Soubi would stoop down to kiss him, always so softly, and the pulling of hair immediately afterwards didn't hold as much frustration as before, not as much protest.

Sometimes, Ritsuka caught himself staring at the older man, a mixture of affection and fascination flitting across his face. Soubi would grin at him, and when Ritsuka sputtered and looked away, saying something mean, the grin would melt into a terribly tender smile, and Ritsuka sometimes thought he may melt along with it.

It happened, once, that Ritsuka found one of his hands trailing through that which he so usually tortured. He'd been pulled into another embrace, and so he reached his hands up. Soubi's hair really was soft, and the boy found he could spend hours twirling and straightening the silky strands. He closed his eyes momentarily, inhaling the scent of shampoo and cigarettes.

When this triad had gone on for too long, and when Ritsuka thought he was showing too much tenderness, he pulled away with a glare and turned to his abandoned homework.

" My hair is nice, isn't it Ritsuka?" Soubi said to him after. And to which the boy told him to shut up.

Things progressed again, as the pattern of evolution strongly goes. The hesitant yanking began to turn into something entirely different.

Soubi would still kiss the boy whenever he felt the need, but when he drew away, hands would come up to his hair as always, only they would loosely grab, and gently pull...forward. Not backwards, sideways, or any other way that was generally unpleasant to go by hair pulling.

Ritsuka tugged on his long hair, no idea of anger, or trace of refusal present in the action. Instead, it was beseeching, with all the demanding of a child. His cheeks would grow warm with a different kind of heat, and as Soubi silently followed the pull on his scalp, and the glow of the large, half lidded eyes, every bit unsure as expectant, he made sure that his expression was not amused or mocking. Soubi schooled his features and pretended he didn't know what Ritsuka wanted, just as he kissed the boy again, sweetly, deeply, and never long enough.

It became a habit.

This process and display of growing affection for Soubi was one of the few things Ritsuka did that could be considered caring. All other times, he would glare, insult and push away the older man with every fiber of his being, rarely allowing himself to completely relax in fear of becoming so dependent on the other's smile that it hurt whenever he couldn't see it.

Rituska didn't quite realize that, by every meaning of the word, he'd already fallen. It didn't register in his stubborn mind or abused heart that Soubi's smiles held the power to light his day, even if they only provided a select few rays. The rays were blinding and utterly brilliant. He didn't know that the close proximity he made a point to rebel against was sometimes so badly needed, he silently demanded it.

So things went on, and Ritsuka sometimes played with Soubi's hair, never commenting on it. Soubi savored the brush of lips, and he savored the predicated motion of Ritsuka's tiny hands beckoning him forward, tugging on his hair.

For every small touch, every kiss, Ritsuka would tug on his hair and softly, urgently ask for one more lingering touch, or for Soubi to simply remain how he was. The tugs were sometimes frustrated, as if Ritsuka himself was angry at his want. No matter the visible attitude of the younger though, the tugs remained forever tender and stood as Soubi's indicator that the boy really cared.

Soubi never let on that he noticed the tugs. In turn, Ritsuka gradually became less hugely embarrassed and more and more assertive in the carrying-out of his tugs.

However, the bright blush never left boyish cheeks, and hot hands never cooled, and quick breathing never subsided easily after particularly long kisses.

Yes, Soubi loved when Ritsuka reached out. Soubi loved that signature tug, only ever meant for him.

* * *

Let the fluff gag and ensue, yes? Sorry for excess mush. This idea's been in my head for the longest time, it's been half written, tucked away on my computer for the longest time, and it's taken even longer to get out. Still not satisfied with it, but I figured, I needed to write another Loveless fic, because the series is that amazing.

Rather than go on about how much Soubi loves Ritsuka, I thought I'd do this. It conveys the same message, you see? Man. I love Loveless. (Heh)

Do tell me what you thought! Hopefully this isn't quite as icky as I think! The ending is definitely pretty stupid...and there wasn't some earth shattering point....ah, let's just call this a drabble, yes?

Much love,

Kyla


End file.
